20. Mine
TWENTY
MINE
KYLIE
I n the middle of bumfuck Oklahoma, it was a million times easier to get my hands on an untraceable gun than it was to find anyone who would give me information on the Holy Church of Jesus Devotion.
Within three hours of landing at the OKC Airport, I had my choice between a scraped Ruger, a Colt, and a Smith three if you count the small baby that the woman is holding onto, clutching to her dress. The woman is about my age, a cascade of blonde hair moving with her as she swivels to see us entering the room before turning to look at the man behind the desk again.
I’ll admit, the first thing that catches my eye is the twinkling cross the church leader had posted on the wall behind his desk, just over his head height. Just beneath it, the gold altar that Luca told me about.
And in front of it…
Jack Donovan.
He grips the edge of his desk, too late to hide the angry expression he had on while talking to the other woman. A flash of annoyance does little to replace it as he says, “Yes?”
“Apologies, prophet. I didn’t realize you were with your wife.”
Huh. Me, neither.
Emily. That’s Emily.
Luca’s Emily.
Damn it. She’s beautiful .
Oh, she’s slightly worn down, though having three kids under four by the time you’re in your mid-twenties might do that to you. The loose dress hanging off of her isn’t doing her any favors. She still has a natural beauty that shines through regardless, and a lingering spirit in the way she was glaring at her husband as we walked in that tells me she’ll be okay after I’m done.
I turn my attention from the woman back to the ostentatious figure standing behind the desk.
I look closer this time. Emily is in her mid-twenties. Donovan is at least sixty. His skin is that fake orange-y color you get when you think you’ll look better with a tan, and his hair is quite obviously a black toupee that gives new meaning to ‘rug’. Seriously. Did someone cut a piece of shag carpet and drop it on top of his bald head?
He’s a thick, round man with dark watery eyes that turn immediately lecherous when he sees me standing just behind Luca’s father.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“A new member for the fold.”
I step around Mr. St. James, walking toward the desk. At my approach, Emily moves to the side.
Her husband doesn’t notice. He’s too busy leering at me.
Ugh.
“You Jack Donovan?”
“Yes, I am, child. How can I serve you?”
I shrug. “You can die.”
His haughty expression turns puzzled, almost as if he can’t believe he heard what he did. “Excuse me?”
“No,” I say cheerily. “I don’t think I will.”
And then, to make it obvious that I’m not kidding, I dip my hand in my jacket and pull out the Ruger. I aim it at him.
The fucker moves.
That’s the problem with being a bloated bastard in your late sixties. You don’t move as fast as you used to, and as Donovan breaks for his wife as though he has every intention of trying to hide his bulk behind her, it only takes a second for me to readjust my aim before I fire.
I get him dead in the chest before he can reach Emily and the baby. Because my aim is, as ever, fucking perfect, it’s a kill shot. He gurgles as he hits the ground, then goes instantly silent.
He’s the only one who does.
Emily screams. Because her mother is screaming, the baby cries.
Luca’s father stares in horror as he shouts nonsense that I tune out.
Ignoring the noise, I march around the desk and put another bullet through Donovan’s brain for good measure.
I’m sure the two shots ringing out will catch the rest of the settlement’s attention. Now that I did the first part of what I came here to do, it’s time I finish up and catch the next flight out to Florida like I planned.
But first I give Mr. St. James an appraising look.
On my way over, I thought about eliminating his parents if I had the chance. Donovan was my main target, but if I could find them… they’d be excellent candidates for my special brand of justice, too. For fuck’s sake, they branded Luca. They twisted him up over his sexuality, and sat back as this creep preyed on a girl young enough to be all of their daughters. When Luca tried to save her, they disowned him, only trying to bring him back to their fold when the precious prophet told them to.
A man of God? Hell, no. Between the golden church, the golden altar, and the diamond-encrusted cross hanging in this office, he couldn’t be further than the truth. He’s a con man. A cheat. A cheat er .
A fraud.
And now he’s dead.
By some stroke of luck, I found Luca’s father. I should kill him, too. He’d deserve it, but you know what? That would be too easy. Let him know that his son escaped. That he found a partner who is willing to kill for him.
That he’s living a good life working for a man called Devil, while they worship a false prophet who tried to use his own wife and child as a human shield when he saw my gun.
So I don’t kill him. Leaving him to live this sorry existence without Luca? That’s justice enough.
Giving him a dismissive look while still clutching my gun, I move toward the wall. Stepping over Donovan’s corpse, ignoring the way that Emily’s scream becomes a gasp as she rushes out of my reach.
Not like I was heading toward her anyway. I just needed to get a little closer, then to jump a little higher, and— yes! I’ve snatched the diamond cross off the wall.
“I’ll be taking this with me, thank you.”
Emily nods abruptly, as if giving me permission.
Hiding on the other side of the room, Mr. St. James points a trembling finger at me. “You can’t do that!”
Watch me.
“Who do you think you are?” demands Luca’s father. “Stop this instant!”
“Me?” I hook the thumb on my free hand through a loop in my jeans. The other taps against the butt of my gun. “I’m the Hummingbird. And unless you want me coming back here, you’ll forget you ever saw me. And if I do come back? I’ll take the rest of Donavan with me.”
I’m banking on these cultish idiots seeing how easily I killed their precious leader and realizing that if his ‘faith’ couldn’t save him, they don’t have a chance. To be fair, I should just shoot them all now. Bam. Bam. Bam. When I remember the brutal scar on Luca’s arm, my trigger finger twitches. And Emily…
I shift my weight, swiveling the barrel of the Ruger from Luca’s father to Luca’s ex.
She pales, hugging her infant close to her chest, shielding as much of the small body with her own.
I drop the gun.
“Find a better husband,” I tell her, a tiny bit of remorse tugging on my heartstrings. For all I know, Donovan was Emily’s Jason. Though, if that was the case, then I did her a favor by killing that cheating POS.
However, before she gets any ideas in that pretty blonde head of hers, I make sure to add: “But not Luca. He’s mine .”